


The Silence in Between

by great_gospel



Category: Bleach
Genre: ByaHisa - Freeform, Character Study, F/M, Family Angst, Gen, Kuchiki Fam Bam!!!, Kuchiki Siblings, dead wife angst, i guess, i posted this in 2015 and it was basically my first bleach fic since 2009, it ended the Great Bleach Drought (tm), it ended the Great Bleach Drought(tm), semi-old fic alert, so it hold a special place in my heart, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 13:18:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7936237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/great_gospel/pseuds/great_gospel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He does not know how to be a brother when he is still coming to terms with the fact that he is no longer a husband.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Silence in Between

**Author's Note:**

> Word Count: 581  
> Timeline/Spoilers: set pre-series through post-winter war; spoilers for Kuchiki family history, and end of winter war  
> Notes: Originally from FFN, u know the drill

_you are the hole in my head_

_you are the space in my bed_

_you are the silence in between_

_what I thought and what I said_

.

.

.

.

.

Byakuya has always held that Rukia shares little resemblance with her late sister. Yes, the excuse they fashioned when she was initially adopted into the family was that she bore a likeness to the former Lady of the house, so it was not that they shared no similarities in an overt sense. (Byakuya was not so blind in that regard.) But he is aghast at the thought that anyone could ever mistake one sister for the other.

 

The style of the hair is the same, but Rukia’s bangs are straight, where hers were frayed at the ends. That wry grin he catches on her face when in the presence of comrades is nothing like that docile, sorrowful smile that was hers. They share the same height deficiency, but Rukia is all gangly limbs and harsh blows, where she once moved with a quiet grace and delicacy, despite both hailing from the depths of Inzuri. And the eyes are all wrong.

 

They are nothing alike, but he avoids this new sibling all the same because, although he cannot fault the innocent child for it, she is the reason his beloved wife no longer stands demurely at his side and is instead relegated to a shrine behind closed doors in his private chambers. He does not know how to be a brother when he is still coming to terms with the fact that he is no longer a husband.

 

But when his grief comes flooding back, drowning him in its depths, that same raven hair and that same petite figure torture his traitorous mind. They’re not the same, they’re not. (And yet, they are.)

 

Rukia is none the wiser.

 

It is half a century after his beloved’s passing, and at the behest of an insolent ryoka boy, that he finally faces his demons. Bit by bit, he allows this girl (truly no more than a stranger still, at this point) into his muddled heart. Where there was once room for only one Kuchiki sister, there is now space for two. One wife, and one sister. But, both family.

 

A full year passes since Rukia’s last visit to a town called Karakura. Merely a flicker in the life of a Shinigami (just as those five years were but a short dream for him), but an eternity for the heart. The brokenness in her eyes is of the same strand that plagued her sister before her. It pains him to think that this is the first time he truly notices a resemblance between the two. But, the younger sister carries on, will as strong as the elder’s was. For shame, her body was so frail.

 

Rukia appears before him one day, hair shorn short, stopping just above the chin. He pauses when he sees the new look.

 

“Do you like it, nii-sama?” she questions almost shyly, in such a way that evokes past memories, but with a brazen independence that is all her own. She is not her sister. She never will be. He sees nothing wrong with this.

 

In the brief interlude, a million thoughts float through his weary mind, and they are all of _her_. There’s that same twinkle in her eye and mischief in her grin and gentleness in her features and patience in her gaze, and it’s almost too much for him.

 

Eventually, he stirs from his reminiscence. “I just never noticed how much you look like her,” he says softly.

 

Without asking, she knows who this ‘her’ is. Rukia beams.


End file.
